The Slashing Opera
by Shiny-kun
Summary: Murata is plagued by the past, and it begins to take a more physical toll on the Wise Man. Yuuri tries to help, but just ends up complicating the situation. MuraYuu, MuraShinou. Yaoi.
1. Chapter 1

Be forewarned, it is not a nice story. There is noncon (non-consensual). The main pairing is Murata/Yuuri, but it starts off as Murata/Shinou.

This is Shiny working out her inner demons.

Warnings: Noncon, gore, violence, yaoi, camping.

___XxX___

The Slashing Opera

_In my desperation, I'll dress myself up grandly_

_Even while knowing you'll cut me down_

_In my desperation, I'll polish myself to a shine_

_Even while knowing you'll cut me down_

_It was terrible, oh how it was terrible_

_When you did just that_

_You lopped off my hair_

_And left me looking how you did when you died_

It was one of those rare days when Murata Ken left the solidarity and sanctuary of the Tomb of the Great One. In fact, the reason he fled the great tomb was because the said owner of the tomb was plaguing him. He was slipping memories into his head, whispering in his ear and ghosting over his body. Murata felt he would break if he left there, and knew he would crumble into despair if he stayed.

So, Murata was now sitting comfortably on one of the terraces on Blood Pledge Castle, looking into the courtyard. Yuuri was chasing after Greta, who decided it was her turn to play with Morgif. He sat with once leg crossed over the other, elbow on the table next to him to prop his head up. His glasses reflected the light just right to make his look unreadable as the hand supporting his chin slipped upwards to cover and grasp his mouth.

It seemed that he was still in the reach of The Great One. He could see flashes from 4000 years ago, memories of him and the great blonde Maoh. Back when he had long hair and was not quite so wise, and when _he_ was still brash and impulsive and _alive_. He could remember lying on a grassy hill as the sun set before them. He could smell the damp grass and see the clouds flitting in the horizon and hear _his_ heartbeat.

Back when Murata was not Soukoku no Daikenja and _he_ wasn't Shinou Heika, together and alone, they were just Daikenja and Shinou. Murata could hear the soft rise and fall of _his_ chest and could feel the fleeting caresses of long fingers through his hair. Shinou always loved his hair.

Murata could feel the bile rise up in his throat as he let his memories get the better of him. His whole body was shaking as he hunched over in his seat, head now between his legs. Drawing in grasping breaths, he dry heaved until his body settled down minutes later. He could feel a hand rubbing his back, soothing him and yet worsening his condition. Murata sat back up, completely ignoring the deity beside him.

"_What did I do to get the silent treatment, Daikenja?"_

Murata wiped his forehead on the sleeve of his jacket, brushing away the perspiration. He then closed his eyes and rested his head against the back of the chair he had slumped into. He felt a ghostly hand rest gently on his shoulder, so familiar and yet so saddening.

"_That's bad for your posture, you know"_

Murata felt his breath quicken, but schooled his features into his impassable smile. He covered his eyes, glasses and all, with his hand and used his long fingers to massage his temple. He could feel four thousand years of emotion trying to get the better of him, but he wouldn't give in that easily.

"The reason I left was to get away from you," Murata said, hand clamped over his eyes.

He didn't have to look to see the look on Shinou's face. It was somewhere crossed between puzzled and shocked with a small frown pulling between his eyebrows. He knew what that look was, just like he knew that it was false. He was more than aware of Shinou's intentions and after four thousand years, little had changed. He could never deny the Great One for long.

"_I rather… enjoyed watching your past life, Dai_,"

Murata suppressed a shiver. His pervious life wasn't one of his best choices. He had been a French doctor named Henry Régent, a Spanish bread maker, a Venetian bakery worker, an ancient Egyptian mummy maker, and a knight in the crusades and those deeds still fell short. No, in his previous life, he was a porn actress name Christina. A good one, but porn just the same.

"So you were the creepy brunette ogling me," Murata replied, removing his hand from his face but keeping his eyes shut.

"_Mmm. I don't think you realised just how enthralling you were"_

And now he could feel the ghost of a hand sliding up his knee and along his inner thigh. Murata felt his blood boil and rush to a familiar wanton place. He was still a virgin in this body, and despite the fact he was 4000 years old, the excitement of someone touching him was that of a virgin's. And he knew that Shinou knew this.

"_I lied. You weren't nearly as enthralling as now,"_ he whispered into his ear.

Murata could feel the spirit's body now. He could feel the man's chest press against his abdomen as Shinou was kneeling between his legs. That hand hiked higher up his thigh and was moving dangerously close to his groin. Ghostly breath puffed out and tickled the hair near his ear. But still, Murata kept his eyes closed. He knew that if he looked into those blue eyes, the same ones that told him that they loved him four thousand years ago, he would come undone.

"_Come on, Dai. Show me those beautiful onyx eyes again."_

Murata shook his head slightly, keeping his eyes clamped shut. His body was burning with want and he felt so ashamed that Murata thought he was going to throw up. He could hear the breathy chuckle just below his left ear and that hand slid down towards his knee before going back up his thigh, dangerously closer each time.

"_I don't remember you being this stubborn,"_ he sighed.

Murata could feel his eyes getting sticky and the light brightening behind them. He was dangerously close to opening his eyes. His cheeks were flushed pink and the rest of his face was deadly pale with a green tinge. He was biting his lower lip, sinking in sharp canine teeth and drawing blood. Murata felt a tear roll down his cheek and he wasn't even aware he was crying. All energy was on not opening his eyes.

And suddenly, he was gone. Shinou was gone without a trace of energy or scent, completely vanished like the phantom he had become. Murata came back to reality, which was apparently someone shaking his shoulder.

"MuraKen? Murata?! Can you hear me? Someone, call for Gisela!"

Ah, he knew that voice. He knew that hysterical, completely over reactive tone that screamed naivety. He opened his eyes to find Yuuri's worried obsidian orbs staring into his. Murata merely smiled, cocking his head to the side slightly.

"Sorry, Shibyua. What were you saying?" he asked, voice completely calm. Murata was amazed that he had managed to keep both his face and his voice under control while swallowing back the bile rising in his throat.

"Murata! Are you okay. You're as white as a ghost," Yuuri said worriedly, hand clasped on his shoulder.

Ah. Bad choice of words. So it was Yuuri whom had chased Shinou away. Murata definitely owed him something. Maybe when they returned to Earth, he would buy him some ramen or something.

"I'm fine, Shibuya. Just a sudden dizzy spell," Murata said with a smile.

Yuuri's big eyes staring into his with such worry made him feel guilty. He could always tell what his friend was thinking, and knowing that Yuuri worried and cared for him so much helped to lighten the burden he carried. Murata absently patted Yuuri on the shoulder and tried to stand up. Yuuri immediately pushed him back down.

"Don't move. Gisela is on her way," Yuuri said, pushing Murata back into the chair and keeping him there.

"Shibuya, I'm fine. Really. I was just feeling a little ill, but I'm fine now," Murata reasoned. He definitely felt guilty lying to Yuuri, but he didn't need to know this. This was between him and Shinou, no need to drag in innocent victims.

"Fine, you can go," Yuuri said. Murata was stunned that he had won so easily. "After Gisela checks you." Yuuri added, pushing back into the chair as he began to rise.

Murata held his hands up in defeat and sighed, slumping into the chair.

___XxX___

I've written, like, ten dark chapters already. I was very angsty. So, I tried an angsty story. Which turned into non-consensual smut. I have a one tracked mind.

Toodles.

Shiny

XOXOXO


	2. Chapter 2

Lilith045 – you're too right. Not enough ShinouxDai/Murata and yes, no lovey-dovey. Also, I think I love you… can I have your babies?

Paradoxismminant – two things: 1) thank you for semi-stalking me ^_^ 2) you're name is too long. I'm calling you Para-chan now.

I cut my hand open on a carboard box… wow…

___XxX___

_I watch you tap the blood in my vein  
My heart you feed on to keep you sustained  
A parasite that leaves me cold and drained _

_I'm in shock and you leave me paralysed  
And the saddest part I realize  
The absence of truth behind your eyes  
_

- Bite the hand that bleeds – Fear Factory

Murata wondered how two people who were supposed to be the same were so unequivocally different. Shinou was tall and blonde and regal with an unapproachable air. Shibuya was short with black eyes and hair and was as threatening as a hairball. Their outwards appearances seemed to be exactly opposite to each other's personality.

While, yes, Shinou was great and kind of the saviour of Shin Makoku, he was for lack of a better description, a devious bastard. He didn't mind sacrificing the peons for his own sake and preferred to kill first and ask questions later. Everyone saw him as this great figure to aspire too, and it took all of Murata's will to not thoroughly disillusion them. Shinou was manipulative and ruthless underneath his caring façade, and Murata was never really sure that the blonde did ever love him, and not the idea of him.

But Shibuya was different. He was kind and considerate and amazingly naïve and easily fooled. He never left anyone behind, friend and even foe some times. He adopted the girl who tired to kill him, made friends with the warlords who wanted his head and charged in blindly for people whom he didn't know. Murata was convinced that Shibuya didn't have a deceitful bone in his body and couldn't lie to save his own skin.

He found it ironic how Shibuya bore the appearance of black and Shinou that of fair blonde. Black was usually portrayed as evil and deceitful and blonde was usually ethereal and angelic. Murata wondered if it was a twist of fate, or just some cataclysmic cosmic screw up.

He was sitting under a tree on a hill outside the city limits. He was supposed to be going back to the tomb, but he didn't really want to go back there just yet. Instead, he watched the late evening bustle in the city from his vantage point. It was getting very late, and the sun was merely a spark of brightness on the horizon, conceding to the darkness of night.

He always considered the night was his time. After all, he was the one to guide with a gentle glow, and become the moon itself. He found it rather poetic, and was yet to hint onto José that he actually knew what was said. Murata was always more active at night. He contributed it to his previous life that he loved the night. He slept only a few hours each night, some time after midnight and awake before sunrise.

Murata was reluctant to return to the tomb. Shinou had taken it too far today. Murata admitted that he had sometimes participated in the banter, but that was purely verbal and very rarely. He had no idea that Shinou could still reach him that far away from the tomb. Murata vaguely considered going further away, maybe to a small village or Caloria. Lady Flynn would love to see him again and he had a standing invitation to stay there.

But, Ulrike would be expecting him back soon. He had never really considered the tomb a home like the miko's did. He considered it a cruel place where reality and memories blended together. But, when he was in a clear frame of mind, it was rather pleasant. The priestesses were rather fond of him, being the only man who could enter the tomb without permission besides from the Maoh himself.

And yes, he should get going. Atzulith would be preparing dinner right now and Ulrike was waiting for their usual evening chat and he had to finish plastering that crack in the outer wall before it crumbled. But he still didn't stand. Too much had happened today and he was feeling strained. He hadn't expected Shinou to take on a form just to taunt him.

He was the Soukoku no Daikenja, powerful and wise beyond his years. But for the life of him, he couldn't figure out Shinou anymore. He always used to be able to predict when the blonde would charge head-on into battle, or when he would 'accidently' (it was an accident, really) set the garden on fire. He could anticipate when Shinou was feeling angry or when the great demon needed a break. He could predict when those hands would enclose around his shoulder, when those lips pressed against his neck and those hands slid along his body.

Murata could feel his hands shaking. It was only when he was alone did he usually allow his façade to fall, and only then did Shinou usually talk to him outside the tomb. But today had been so different, so incredibly shaking for Murata. He ran his tongue over his bottom lip, winging as it swiped over the now clotted punctures from his teeth.

He had allowed his façade to slip too far today. He had allowed Shinou to get under his skin right in front of Greta and, perhaps worse, Shibuya. And Shibuya was so worried about him. After Gisela gave him the all-clear, Shibuya had ordered Conrad to escort Murata to the edge of the city limits. There, even Conrad had given him a worried look but Murata merely smiled and waved it off.

Murata was beginning to worry about his attachments to Shibuya. The boy was his best friend, but he was also the reincarnate of Shinou, and history told how he was with Maoh's. He treasured Shibuya as a friend, and couldn't think of baring the situation he was under without the boy's steady friendship and unwavering faith. Murata knew that Shibuya would be the one to unite Shin Makoku under a banner of peace and he wanted to help him with it. But Murata was unsure how much more of this he could take.

He watched as the last rays slipped beyond the horizon, leaving the only light to illuminate him being the glowing moon. With a sigh, he made his way back to the tomb. The lamps at the gate were lit for him and he couldn't help but smile a little wider. He could smell beef stew coming from the kitchens. Maybe he should sneak in and sample it, just to make sure it wasn't poisonous.

"Hello, Geika"

Murata stopped all food-snatching thoughts and looked to his side. Ulrike was standing there, hands clasped in front of herself with a small smile. Murata returned the smile and waited for her to catch up to him. They walked together towards the kitchen, side by side and in relative companionable silence.

"For some reason, I couldn't reach the Great One this evening."

She had startled Murata with her sudden proclamation. Her all-knowing lilac eyes were on his as she talked. Murata suddenly felt the overwhelming urge to turn away from her gaze, but kept his features on a blank yet slightly confused expression.

"Really?" he asked.

Ulrike stopped walking and Murata continued onwards for a few paces before stopping. He turned his head slightly so that the torch light bounced off his glasses, rendering his eyes unseeable. He had a small smile on his mouth, but it seemed placid, as if it was there by mere coincidence.

"I'm sure it's nothing to worry about," he said, turning his head back around and continuing to the kitchens.

Ulrike stayed put in the courtyard.

"I'll pray for you," she whispered.

___XxX___

One of these days. I'm just going to smother myself in bubblewrap and be locked away… I have emergency bubblewrap in my nightstand… seriously, I do. Bubblewrap is fun.

Ciao Kittens

Shiny

XOXOXOXO


	3. Chapter 3

Okay, this chapter contains semi-gore and noncon to the max, so be warned. Shinou is a major ass here, so prepare the pitchforks and torches!

Lilith045 – you actually got the story! That's why I love you!

Minty, thanks for un-complicating my life a little.

I've been sick lately, extremely bored, and I used up all my emergency bubblewrap.

___XxX___

_Deep into a dying day  
I took a step outside an innocent heart  
Prepare to hate me fall when I may  
This night will hurt you like never before  
Old loves they die hard  
Old lies they die harder_

– Wish I had an Angel - Nightwish

Murata knew he shouldn't be using Hell's Fire in Frozen Land as a chair, but he didn't have much of a choice. He found himself desperately wishing for Ulrike return from meditation in her own chambers, but knew it would be unlikely. His head tilted backwards as he stared at the roof. His teeth were clamped on his bottom lip once again, not quite strong enough to draw blood by themselves but enough to reopen the tear on his lips.

Lips were gliding along his bare neck as hands caressed his back and thigh. A body dragged between his legs, causing his breath to hitch and blood heat. Shinou had taken him by surprise today, appearing out of nowhere and forcing Murata back onto the box. Those cold ethereal fingers gliding up his clothed thigh and lightly ghosted over his groin, causing Murata to almost flinch. He was going too far, and Murata was allowing him to.

Murata should stop him; he should ignite his power and scorch the interior of the temple. He should burn everything away until nothing remained but himself alone. But he wouldn't. He could never deny Shinou, not back then and certainly not now. But it was difficult for Murata all the same. He didn't want this. He wanted Shinou to stay in the past, in _his_ memories where the demon belonged.

But Shinou was cruel. He had proved that by making him remember his past lives. It was pure torture remembering all the lovers that had died, all the horrible and shattering things that had been done to him and that he had done. Murata just wanted to be oblivious to what had happened before him like everyone else was. It was unbelievably lonely, and Shinou was merely salting his vast wound.

Murata gasped as that ghost hand came to a rest over his crotch and began to rub softly. He turned his head to the side defiantly, not wanting Shinou to see him in his weakness. That's what he was. Weak. Murata wished he was stronger, but he just wasn't. Four thousand years of knowledge and it was all useless at the hands of a dead lover.

The hand tightened over his groin, causing Murata to cry out in pain. It then began to rub apologetically as his other hand scratched his back, leaving long red lines along his lower back. Murata knew that the scratches had drawn blood, and what sickened him more was that it almost felt pleasurable.

"_You're awfully deep in thought tonight_," Shinou remarked, nibbling on his neck.

Murata's brow furrowed as he contemplated an answer. He merely shrugged in response, not trusting his voice to stay steady. Shinou was playing his body like a well-tuned instrument. It was bringing back hard times for Murata, times when four thousand years ago they would make love.

Murata wasn't sure if he would call what they ever did making love. It was always rough and needy and sometimes unsatisfying, but usually mind-blowing. After four thousand years, Shinou was still the best he had ever had. The blonde apparition dug his fingers into Murata's shoulder blades, piercing the skin and muscle. Murata screamed, clawing at Shinou's shoulders.

"_That's better. Now you're with me,_" Shinou said with a chuckle.

Murata was panting, partly from arousal but mostly from pain. He could smell his own blood, the thick coppery smell hanging over him like a cloud. Shinou had always liked blood, whether it be his enemies or the Daikenja's. Murata could remember that as the Daikenja, the vast majority of scars on his body came from Shinou and not battle.

"Shinou," Murata said, fingers curling into the non-existent blonde's shoulders.

"_You had me worried there, Dai. Were you thinking of another man? The Maoh, perhaps?"_

Murata shook his head, gasping for breath. Shibuya hadn't come up in his mind at all. He would never attribute anything in this atrocity happening to the ever-tender Maoh. Shinou knew Murata too well to know that he had a thing for kings, especially those of the demon variety. Murata winced as the blood on his back hit the waist of his pants, curling through Shinou's fingers that were now rubbing there.

Murata could feel himself shattering inside. He wanted… no, needed to get away from Shinou. He had to escape the blonde before anything else happened. He found himself desperately wishing for a miracle as ghostly hands began to play with the button on his pants. His white shirt was partially unbuttoned as Shinou's lips went over his collar bone to bite there.

This would kill him one day, Murata knew. Shinou's greed and lust would eventually destroy his delicate human body. It wasn't enough that the Maoh had his soul on a leash, but he had to destroy his body as well. Murata wondered what Shibuya would do in this situation. He never wanted the young Maoh to be in a similar bind, but he still wondered what he would do.

Shibuya would smack at Shinou until he stopped then lecture him. That's what he'd do. If Conrad and Wolfram didn't kill Shinou first, that is. Murata's eyes widened. He brought a foot up between himself and Shinou. It rested squarely on Shinou's chest. Clearly, the blonde though he had won, judging by the grin that spread on his face. Murata waited until Shinou moved in closer and kicked out.

The momentum sent Shinou backwards and toppled Murata off the box. His back hit the floor first, earning a loud grunt of pain and a particularly nasty blood smear. Murata jerked up and bolted from the hall, not bothering to look back to Shinou. He was suddenly glad that his baseball team back on Earth kept him fit as he ran from the tomb to the city.

Murata flew through the gates, running straight for Blood Pledge Castle. He didn't stop to take in his ragged appearance; glasses askew, jacket missing, undershirt undone and covered in blood. Instead, he ran like he had fire licking his heels. He slid through the castle gates that had been open by chance and passed the guards. They yelled after him, but didn't try to stop him.

He careened through the hallways, heading for the one spot where the young Maoh would be around this time. He didn't care how he appeared, he had to see Shibuya. He needed to borrow some of his strength, and he needed to see that beautiful face that worried over him. This would destroy both of them now; both he and Shibuya eventually, but he _needed_ Shibuya. He needed Yuuri.

He burst through the door, panting as he grasped the frame for support. Yuuri was in his study, as predicted, but Murata didn't bank on Conrad, Wolfram, Gwendal and Günter being there. Blood was pouring from his back, causing his shirt to stick there painfully and the bite on his collarbone was now spewing the crimson liquid. At one stage, when he had been running, he had smeared the blood over his hands and a streak of it down his face.

"Murata!"

Yuuri was up around his desk in moments, sending his paperwork toppling. Murata ran forwards, but it all seemed slow motion to him. Gwendal was rising from his seat, face set in both surprise and anger. Wolfram looked stunned, Günter was wordless and blank and Conrad looked horrified. And Yuuri. He was terrified, rounding his desk and shouting Murata's name.

Murata flung himself into Yuuri's arms, hanging his own around Yuuri's neck. Murata's legs buckled and both himself and Yuuri crumpled to the ground. They ended up with Yuuri sitting on his legs while Murata grasped his shoulders, head buried in the Maoh's chest as he panted. Time finally returned to normal and the room was filled with shouts and wails.

"Call for a medic!"

"We have to stop the bleeding!"

"Murata!"

Murata looked up into those big black eyes and he saw Yuuri was crying. Tears were welling up in the Maoh's eyes as he called Murata's name over and over again, shaking his shoulders. Murata's glasses slid off as he eased himself back slightly. A hand touched his back and Murata screamed.

It was heart-wrenching for everyone, hearing such a pained wail from the usually quiet and happy sage. Murata felt the shirt being peeled off his back and kept wailing in pain, tear springing to his eyes. The shirt was finally pulled away, revealing the extent of the damage. Günter gasped and Wolfram turned away, gagging.

His entire back was covered in the sticky crimson fluid, seemingly emanating from ten deep punctures from between his shoulder blades. Murata could feel as cloths torn from clothing was used to clean the blood and, more painfully, staunch the bleeding. He held back his cries by biting his tongue and fisted the material of Yuuri's jacket.

Suddenly, a cloth touched somewhere on his lower back and Murata hissed loudly. Conrad had uncovered the deep scratches there and knew it would look suspicious that they ran just past the line of his pants. He could hear the angry hiss from Conrad and the feral growl that could only belong to Gwendal.

"Murata, what happened?" Yuuri asked, pulling the boy's face up to his.

Murata found himself not wanting to look into his eyes, like his own misfortune would infect Yuuri. But Yuuri didn't give him much of a choice. Murata merely shook his head and slowly back away from Yuuri until there were a few feet separating them. Yuuri wordlessly got up and moved around Murata to inspect the damage.

Conrad had holding a cloth over the scratch bordering his hips, leaving it unseen to Yuuri's eyes. That, he was grateful for. Yuuri didn't need to know what had almost happened.

"We need to get him somewhere comfortable," Conrad said.

"Can you walk, Murata?" Yuuri asked immediately.

Murata merely nodded and stood shakily. It hurt to move his shoulder and even to walk. He hadn't felt it, running here on sheer adrenalin and something akin to fear. He felt Yuuri grab his elbow and held back a small groan of pain. Conrad had his other hand and Gwendal and Günter held the cloths in place as they moved him from the office.

___XxX___

I need more bubblewrap now.

Shiny

XOXOXOXO


	4. Chapter 4

Lilith: … that's the most flattering and long review I've ever had. Seriously, thanks for that. The chappie I'm actually writing at the moment… I think its number 5 now… has been dedicated to you. It's a Murata/Yuuri snugglefest with semi-dominant!Yuuri (it was your idea

Sorry about the lack of updates; I've been transfixed by Mass Effect 2. I'll try to remember to upload this, but the alien smut is calling me.

--- Sorry about the false warning. I uploaded the wrong chapter! Here's the right one! ---

___XxX___

_Send away for a priceless gift  
One not subtle, one not on the list  
Send away for a perfect world  
One not simply, so absurd  
In these times of doing what you're told  
You keep these feelings, no one knows  
What ever happened to the young man's heart  
Swallowed by pain, as he slowly fell apart  
_

45 – Shinedown

Murata woke up in a bed somewhere. He couldn't quite make out where, considering everything was fuzzy at best and horribly distorted at worst without his glasses. He could feel a weight at the edge of the bed and could see several flurry outlines of figures. Murata hissed as his back throbbed and he jerked his head to the side. He was laying on his stomach, facing the group of furry outlines.

Suddenly, a face was coming closer to his and all Murata could see was blonde hair and delicate features. A sense of dread creeped its way through his blood stream and jerked every vessel in his very body alive. Adrenalin flooded his brain and muscles and the only thing he could think of was _escape._

Murata screamed.

He scrambled over the bed, ignoring the burning of his wounds tears open and elongating. Suddenly, a weight fell on the undamaged parts of his back in the form of hands, holding him down on the bed. Murata began yelping in a mixture of pain and adrenalin induced fear.

"Murata!"

Two hands smacked on his cheeks and he found himself a hair's breath from Yuuri. Murata immediately relaxed under the weight of the hands, air escaping his lungs. He heard Yuuri go to talk, and held up a hand in silence. He rubbed the bridge of his nose, then his temples and vaguely gestured to the side with one hand.

"Glasses," he croaked, making blind groping motions with his hand.

They were slipped onto the bridge of his nose for him and Yuuri's face came into clearer detail. There was worry etched into every muscle of his face but there was a spark in his aura. Extreme rage leaked from his very being, only being masked by intense worry. Murata removed Yuuri's hands from his face. So, it seemed that he had seen the long gash-like scratches that bordered his hips.

Murata glanced back to see Conrad and Gwendal were the ones holding him down. Behind them, Wolfram was looking like he had electrocuted, face covered in shock and hurt. Oh. So it had been Wolfram he had screamed at. Oh bugger.

The hands removed themselves from his body and a gentle pair pulled Murata back into his original position. Conrad then pulled the sheet back up around his hips to hide Murata's nakedness. Murata laid there quietly, facing them but with his eyes closed as he regained his cool.

When he opened his eyes, four pairs were staring at him. Murata smiled lazily and waved.

"Uh… Hi?"

It surprised him when Yuuri was the one who exploded and not Wolfram. Guess the blonde prince was still too shocked. Well, Murata would be shocked if one of his companions began screaming in his face too.

"Hi?! HI?! What the hell, Murata!" Yuuri screeched, waving his hands above his head.

Conrad moved off the bed to attempt to calm the Maoh. Gwendal took Conrad's previous position, except a little farther away from the sage than his brother. He could feel the Commander's eyes on him, asking him a silent question. One that Murata intended to ignore. The room was suddenly, quiet, causing Murata to look past Gwendal.

Yuuri was looking at him with concern, despite his face was pulled into an angry frown. Murata sighed and pulled hand through his hair. It was matted in places, but otherwise blood free. They must have washed him after he lost consciousness. He opened his eyes in time to see Yuuri sit down on the floor by the bed. He pillowed his head on his arms which rested on the mattress. Conrad stood behind him, one hand resting on his shoulders. Behind Conrad, Wolfram came forwards.

Great. They were going to gang up on him.

"Murata?"

Murata had to commend Yuuri. It came out more stable than minutes before when the boy had exploded. He had selfishly run here to Yuuri, and had probably put him in irreparable danger. What had he been thinking, coming here? That's it, he wasn't thinking. All he knew that, while he was running, he wanted to see the sun once more. Yuuri was bright like the sun, spreading a bright light through everything he encountered.

Murata raised a hand and touched Yuuri's cheek. His smiled stayed in place when Yuuri grabbed it with his own, clasping it tightly. Ah, so that was it. They all thought he was a victim of some atrocious crime. No doubt they had examined his body by now, finding the long scratches and finger-sized bruises on his hips.

"I'm alright," Murata said, withdrawing his hand. "I'm fine now," he added with a small smile. His voice was harsh and sore, probably for screaming so much in one day. His back was burning and he was strongly wishing that he had bought some Tylenol with him.

Suddenly, a glass of water was floating in front of his face. Yuuri handed it to him with two small white pills. Murata nodded appreciatively and gulped back both the water and the pills. He groaned as he laid back down on his stomach, causing the sheet to slide back to the beginning of the curve of his rear.

"What happened, Murata?" Yuuri asked quietly.

Murata was having trouble finding a convincing cover story for this one. It was hard enough trying to explain all his unfounded wounds to Ulrike in the past week, let alone now to Yuuri. Murata didn't want to lie to the Maoh, but he couldn't tell him either. How does one explain that they're being molested by a four thousand year old spirit? Not very easily, that's how.

"It's okay. I can handle it," Murata replied, eyes drifted shut and opening again quickly. It seemed that the painkillers Yuuri had given him were very quick to act. He could already feel the pain dull and he began to feel drowsy.

"Clearly not," Wolfram snorted, apparently over his shocked spell.

"Geika…" Conrad said, face pulled into a sad expression.

Murata waved it off, indicating that he didn't want to talk about it.

"Tell me, Murata. I'll protect you," Yuuri said, hands gripping the sheets. Murata watched as those hands tightened in the blue fabric, fisting it tight enough to tear. "I'll _crush_ them." Yuuri amended, anger lacing his voice.

That startled Murata to see Yuuri so angry. His teeth were clenched and his eyebrows pulled down into a frown. Conrad squeezed Yuuri's shoulder and shook his head. The Maoh sighed, face falling back to normal. He still looked sad, though, and it made Murata feel guilty.

"I believe I know what happened," came a small voice from the doorway.

"See you called the Tomb about this," Murata said with disdain.

He glanced to the door where Ulrike was. It was rare for her to ever leave the tomb, so she must have deemed this very important. Murata was slightly angry but more fearful than anything. Ulrike was very sharp for her young appearance.

"I believe…" she began, but Murata headed her off.

"Go _back_ to the Tomb, Ulrike," Murata hissed.

He had never raised his voice to the Genshi Miko before, so he felt that she would now understand the gravity of the situation. She was watching him with a sad look in her eyes, which made Murata snort and jerk his head back. He groped for the sheet and pulled it a bit higher to hide his backside.

He heard Ulrike enter the room and close the door behind her. Murata buried his head into the pillow, ignoring the shuffling steps of the miko. He felt the bed dip near Gwendal and felt her small hand touch his bare shoulder blade. He shook his head, a silent attempt to discourage Ulrike.

"I haven't been able to contact the Great One lately," she said quietly, still touching Murata's shoulder. He knew she was addressing everyone else. Murata already knew this, considering the 'Great One' was having contact with him.

"Around the same time, Geika starting getting wounds over his body," she said. Murata didn't have to look to know that they had pieced together that their great demon lord was abusing his body.

"I can handle it," Murata hissed, levelling a particularly fearsome glare at Ulrike. She flinched and recoiled her hand as if she had been burned. Murata's aura screamed pain and anger as he smashed his head back into the pillow. He ignored the silent whispering between Gwendal and Conrad and the prickling sensation he was getting from Yuuri's stare.

"You should go now, Ulrike," Murata said calmly from the pillow. He felt her weight shift off the bed and the door open and close moments later. He glanced up to see that Wolfram had left with her, and he was now looking at three extremely worried and pissed off men.

"Why didn't you tell me?" Yuuri asked quietly.

Murata refused to meet his face, shaking his head. He could feel shame burning its way onto his cheeks and sorrow consuming his mind. Murata sighed and rested his head off the pillow and closer to Yuuri's. His face was mere inches from Yuuri's and he reached out his hand once again to touch Yuuri's cheek.

"It's a burden you don't have to bear," Murata said.

"Wha…?" Yuuri responded smartly.

It caused a small smile to slip onto Murata's lips. He should never have come here, never troubled Yuuri with this. He should have known. The sun and the moon can't inhabit the same space. Yuuri was the sun that locked the Heavens, and he was the moon that eclipsed the night. They can be in the same sky, but never near each other lest the world fall into chaos.

"It's easier this way, Yuuri," Murata answered. He withdrew his hand and turned his head the other way, effectively shutting off all communication. Murata was feeling exhausted and the painkillers were delightfully numbing his aching brain and back.

"Don't think this is over, Murata. You're staying here until we sort this out," Yuuri said.

And Murata blacked out.

___XxX___

O_o

Nooo…. Don't end it there you horrible author who forgets to upload her own chapters!

XP


	5. Chapter 5

Okay, I lied. This chapter is not fuzzy, it's more of a stopgap filler to the fluff. And, I realise that I haven't been updating… well, recently. So, here's a double update. A stopgap filler and cute yet platonic!fluff.

Well, at least for the time being.

_XxX_

_What can you take from me  
That which you cannot buy  
Exhilaration  
Laughing and turning away  
What will you take from me  
Now that you are inside  
Intoxication  
Now are you feeling enough  
To vilify what I love  
To sanctify all the hate  
_

Intoxication - Disturbed

Murata woke with his head pounding, back aching and glasses stuck lopsided on his nose. There was a fresh tray on his bedside with his breakfast and fresh juice, which Murata greedily grabbed for. He couldn't remember the last time he had eaten and all the bleeding had him starving. Murata couldn't help but laugh when he saw today's breakfast.

There was fresh, still warm bread with globs of butter, just-squeezed juice and what appeared to be grey glop. On closer inspection, it was rice porridge. It seemed that someone had tried to make the Japanese food, but failed somewhat. Murata pulled the tray onto the bed beside him and took a mouthful of the glop. Well, it looked and smelt bad, but it actually tasted kind of good.

It was hard, eating on his stomach but it was much more painful sitting up. Murata resigned himself to breakfast in bed and began to pick chunks of break off and wolf them down. He had no idea that he was this hungry, then again he hadn't done a lot of thinking yesterday. He swallowed another mouthful of porridge and frowned.

He had no idea how he was going to explain this to Yuuri. Yuuri was technically Shinou's reincarnation, so it would kind of like telling him that he and Yuuri had sex four thousand years ago. A small smile slipped onto his face at that, just imagining how Wolfram would respond to that. Probably blame Yuuri for it.

And what in the seven realms of hell was he going to say to Shinou. No, that didn't matter. This was all Shinou's fault anyway. Murata would be damned if he was going to apologise for anything. It was about time he started to draw the line with Shinou.

He had tried before, but Shinou would look at him with those incredibly blue eyes and Murata would cave in. He could remember when they were both in the flesh, their bodies pressed together as Shinou thrust into him. It was something special to him, Shinou was his first and great love. Together, they had conquered everything they had come across by only relying on each other.

Murata never knew if Shinou every actually loved him. He had never actually heard the blonde say anything remotely close, but only he was allowed to touch Shinou. Only Daikenja was allowed in the Shinou Heika's room, and only he was allowed to touch the Great One's body.

Shinou was always a manipulative bastard, but he had never come close to what he had done to Murata yesterday. The blonde Mazoku had always had a penchant for blood, which always led to rough sex between them. But afterwards, Shinou would curl into his body and sleep like a baby. And it was in those moments, that Murata thought Shinou loved him.

But yesterday, the ghostly demon had come very close to violating Murata in ways that the old Shinou would never. Murata knew it wasn't _his_ Shinou that had done that, that somehow Shinou had warped his personality worse than it was back then. But never in all their years together had Shinou ever gone that far without permission. He had never taken Murata without the Daikenja's consent, but yesterday he skirted too close.

Murata sighed and dropped his spoon. He didn't feel like food anymore, so he pushed the tray down to the foot of the bed. He very slowly stood up, careful to not move his shoulders and back too much. Murata shuffled over to the wardrobe and pulled on a pair of pants. He slipped into a button up, considering it would be incredibly hard to raise his arms over his head for a normal shirt.

He shuffled out his room wearing black slacks and an emerald green shirt, stopping when he saw a pair of armed guards opposite his door.

"Dakauscas?" Murata asked, looking at the bald guard.

"Ah, Geika," he said, his noisily voice pitching higher. "So glad to see your up," he added quickly with a smile.

"Why are you here?" he asked the soldier and his partner

"Heika asked us to watch you. He was very worried about you."

Of course Yuuri did. Murata had to question what use a pair of soldiers would be against the ghost of the Great One, but it made his heart swell anyway. Yuuri cared for him so greatly and Murata was deceiving him. But Yuuri would forgive him. He forgave everyone.

"Do you remember anything, Geika?"

Murata was snapped to reality by the question. Dakauscas was looking at him expectantly, as was the other guard.

"Excuse me?" Murata asked

"About the attack. Heika has launched a full investigation, along with Von Voltaire-kyo and even Von Bielefeld-kyo. Rumor is it was bandits, Geika," Dakauscas said, looking at Murata with interest.

"I don't remember anything," Murata said with a smile, cocking his head to the side. Dakauscas seemed crest-fallen, but it didn't matter considering that he went straight to gossiping with his partner. Murata took the silence as a chance to slip away and did so accordingly.

He sighed and rounded a corner, not quite sure where he was heading too. Somehow, he ended up standing before both his and Shinou's painting. Shinou was smiling, looking as dashing as ever and just like the role model Shin Makoku wanted. His own portrait was much less grand compared to Shinou's. He didn't smile much back then, and now apparently he smiled too much. It was more of a defense mechanism than anything.

He rubbed a hand down his face and stared at the painting.

"What the hell do you want with me, Shinou?" Murata asked, staring at the painting. As expected, nothing happened. No answer and no mysterious appearance by the Shinou Heika. Could the Great One actually be feeling remorseful? Murata highly doubted it. He was more likely playing with Murata.

"KenKen?"

Murata looked down to find Greta looking up at him with those huge brown eyes. Murata smiled and knelt down, cocking his head to the side with a smile. She dashed forwards and hugged him, careful to avoid his back. Murata loved this girl, and absolutely adored the nickname she had given him.

"Are you okay, KenKen?" she asked, her tiny voice laced with worry.

Murata smiled and nodded. He stood up once again with a wince, causing Greta to flinch and edge towards him. Murata placed a hand on her head and ruffled it, causing her to squeal happily.

"What are you doing down here, Greta?" Murata asked.

She had almost interrupted his oncoming full-blown anger fit at the portrait. Murata was coming dangerously close to destroying every Shinou portrait in the whole damn castle before she came along.

"I was going to see Yuuri, but I was worried about you," she said sweetly. She had a similar calming effect on him like Yuuri had, just not as strong. She was clutching a colourful satchel tied with a ribbon in one hand.

"What's that?" Murata asked, gesturing to the bag. Greta smiled adorably and thrust it out to show Murata.

"I made cookies for Yuuri," she said proudly. "He's been very sad today." Murata let a genuine smile slip onto his face.

"How about we both go give them to him," Murata asked, offering him her hand. The only response he got as a happy squeal as a small hand took his and led him away.

_XxX_

I've become obsessed with a mixture of Mass Effect 2 and Oblivion. Decided to write a story about each of them, and they total 60,000 words each!

I need a life.

And more uses of the spelunking. I love that word.

Spelunking. Spelunking. Spelunking.

*squee*


	6. Chapter 6

Draw-yourself: here is the semi!fluff. I'm telling you now, its 'platonic' fluff. Don't worry about that, though. Just wait till they go camping and there's only one sleeping bag. XD

Mind you, they're camping in his room, but it still applies.

Beware of incoming fuzz.

_XxX_

_Why can you read me like no one else?  
I hide behind these words  
But I'm coming out  
I wish I kept them behind my tongue  
I hide behind these words  
but I'm coming out_

It's Not A Side Effect Of The Cocaine. I Am Thinking It Must Be Love – Fall Out Boy

"Oh papa Yuuri ~ "

"Oh Shibuya ~ "

Yuuri glanced up in time to see two heads poking around his door. He was in the middle of a meeting with Gwendal, Wolfram and Conrad, whom were all looking at the door. Murata and Greta slipped in, both grinning. Greta went straight for Yuuri while Murata trailed behind her and was stopped by Gwendal.

"Greta, what is it?" Yuuri asked as she rounded the desk and hugged him.

"I was worried about you. You've been really sad today so I bought KenKen to cheer you up," she said, clasping his hand. "Is he okay? He was talking to a painting before," she added in a low voice so only he could hear.

Yuuri smiled sadly and patted her hand.

"Greta, go play outside. I need to talk to Murata," Yuuri said in his 'no objections' voice. Greta pouted sadly and skittered out the room.

All pretences of civility went with her, as everyone dropped their façades. Yuuri went uncharacteristically quiet, as did Wolfram. Murata knew that this would be the pity party for the 'helpless' victim. Neither helpless or victim fitted him well, but Yuuri had a fairly naïve sense of justice at times.

"Uh, I brought cookies?" Murata said, holding up the bag in front of himself as a surrender gesture. People felt an urge to gang up on him lately, and Murata was beginning to not feel the love.

"Cookies?" Yuuri responded lamely.

Murata nodded, ignoring the looks he was receiving.

"Will you all excuse us, please?" Yuuri asked, glancing to the three brothers in the room. Gwendal sniffed in disapproval but turned heel and marched out. Wolfram crossed his arms, staying put and Conrad looked between Murata and the door, internally debating.

"Now!" Yuuri ordered, putting on his deeper Maoh voice. When Wolfram didn't move, Conrad rounded the desk, grabbed the blonde's arm and marched him out the door. The brunette gave Murata and Yuuri a sad smile before closing the sturdy wooden door.

Murata stood in front of the desk where Gwendal had stopped him, still awkwardly holding the bag of cookies out. Yuuri rounded the desk, tossed the cookies onto his paperwork and grabbed Murata's outstretched hand. He dragged the other boy to the couch that the Maoh kept in his office for naps. Yuuri forced Murata into the seat and he sat close enough to the sage so that their knees just brushed together. Yuuri grasped Murata's hand with both of his, resting them on the sage's knee and looked into the other boys onyx eyes.

"Murata, what happened?" Yuuri asked in a soft voice.

Murata knew he should leave, that he never should have run to Shibuya and collapsed onto the Maoh. He had endangered Yuuri so much, and he had increased the risk on himself. He had just killed them both; they just didn't know it yet. But he made the mistake of looking into those big black eyes. His unease doubled, but somehow faded into the background under something else.

Murata felt his throat dry as Yuuri maintained eye contact. The sage could see all the sincerity and patience in the Maoh's eyes, the care, concern and outrage at whom had hurt him. And Murata realised that Shibuya really would wait for him to talk, no matter how long it took.

"It's… nothing to concern yourself about," Murata replied, throat beginning to harden. He felt the Maoh's hands tighten around his own.

"How can you say that? You're my best friend, and I'll definitely be concerned," Yuuri replied quietly, still in a soft and comforting voice. The tone reminded Murata of a mother speaking to a scared child.

"Shibuya…"

"Yuuri. Call me Yuuri, and don't pull that Heika crap like everyone else."

Murata sighed. "Look, lets be honest for a minute," Yuuri nodded, "if you found out; if I told you everything, nothing would be accomplished. It would only hurt you, more than me," the sage reasoned.

He hated lying to Shibuya, but the truth would destroy the younger boy. He wanted the boy to stay happy and naïve and fun, not what he would turn into if he let revenge consume his path. Murata wasn't worth it. And so he told him that.

He wasn't expecting Yuuri to hit him.

Sure, it was a light smack on his shoulder with the heel of a palm, but it shocked Murata just the same. Yuuri was never one to resort to violence, even as weak as it was. He watched as the boy jumped up and began pacing back and forth in front of Murata. The Maoh stopped and crunched noisily on a cookie from his desk.

"It's good," he said lightly.

"Greta made them," Murata replied, wiping his hand down his face.

Yuuri began pacing once again, crunching cookies to try to alleviate his anger. Murata sighed, rubbing his temples with a strangled sound. He could feel a headache coming on, and strongly wished Yuuri had more Tylenol. The Maoh continued to pace, leaving a steadily growing trail of crumbs on the floor as he munched his way through the better part of the bag of cookies.

After ten minutes of silence, pacing and crunching, Murata had had enough. He grabbed Yuuri's arm as he marched past, using the momentum to swing the boy into the couch. Yuuri crumpled in the corner of the sofa, lying almost diagonal so that his head leant back against the corner of the furniture. He was a little further away from Murata now, but still within arms reach.

Yuuri covered his eyes with one hand, using the other to blindly grope forwards until it met the shoulder of Murata's shirt. Yuuri yanked the fabric, making Murata give a strangled yelp as he collapsed on top of the Maoh. Murata tried to move away, but Yuuri's arm rested down his shoulder and along his arm, keeping him pinned between the couch's back and the Maoh. Murata was half on his chest, partially propped up by a half-sitting Yuuri, stomach and chest resting carefully against the Maoh.

"Ken," Yuuri murmured, rubbing the sage's elbow.

"We're not that close, Shibuya, for first names," Murata breathed. His wounds were hurting like hell and his breathe was beginning to hitch with the pain. One of his hands were on Yuuri's chest and he could feel the steady thump of the boy's heart against his palm. The rhythm was relaxing.

"Bullshit." The curse made Murata blink. "We've crossed enemies, friends and dimensions together. You leap after me when I'm in danger and you always get me out of trouble. So don't give me that 'we're not close enough' crap, it won't work," Yuuri said.

Murata opened his mouth to speak but the words weren't forming. He could tell the other boy that everything was going to be alright and not to worry, but Yuuri could almost read the words _behind_ his words.

"Christ, Ken. I thought I lost you," Yuuri mumbled as he rested his cheek on the top of the sage's head. The embrace was so completely platonic and caring that Murata felt emotion welling in his heart and spreading over his body. That, coupled with the hypnotic heartbeat, made the sage relax into the embrace for the moment. Murata sighed and close his eyes, moving so that his ear was directly over Yuuri's heartbeat.

"I have a fair idea what's been happening, but I want to hear it from you. I'll wait however long you need, just not too long, ne?" Yuuri chuckled lightly. The movement made Murata's head move along with his chest. It was so relaxing that Murata could almost forget what had driven him to Blood Pledge Castle in the first place. _Almost._

"Yuuri, you have to understand. I'm not just doing this to protect myself, but to protect you too," Murata said, eyes drifting shut once again. He knew if they were caught like this, despite how platonic it was between them, the rumours would be devastating. But Yuuri didn't care, and Murata couldn't bring himself to either right now.

"Then let me protect you too," Yuuri whispered, still resting his cheek on Murata's hair. Murata felt his heart almost stop before kicking into over gear. No one, not even Shinou, had ever said that to him. Through his four thousand years of existence, no one had ever tried to protect him. He should have expected that from Yuuri. A fast ball right out of the field.

"Anyway, you're going to be staying with me until this mess is sorted out," Yuuri said in a more upbeat voice. The Maoh sounded generally excited; if not for the fact his best friend was beaten and battered.

"I'm not sure that's a good idea. Taking up a room here…"

"Room? What room, Ken? You're staying with me in my room!" Yuuri finished happily.

"What?" Murata deadpanned, eyes snapping open.

"Maa, but we'll have to camp out on the floor. Wolf's a horrible sleeper. Oh, I know! I'll get Shori to get us some camping gear," Yuuri said happily, almost bursting with excitement. The Maoh pulled out from under Ken and dashed out the room, warbling happily.

And Murata felt all the blood leave his face

_XxX_

They try to pitch a tent in Yuri's room. Needless to say, it does not go very well.

XD

Makes me grin.


End file.
